"Recall them, I implore' of you.

In uttering them you pronounce my doom--a doom more dreadful than death, which would be light in comparison with losing you.
Plunge this sword to my heart," he exclaimed, plucking the shining weapon from his side, and presenting it to her.

"Free me from my misery at once, but do not condemn me to lingering agony." "Rise, William! rise, I pray of you," ejaculated the Countess, overcome by the intensity of his emotion, "and put up your sword.

The love you display for me deserves an adequate return, and it shall meet it.

Come what will, I will not leave you.